


Sex on the Brain

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bad Flirting, Character Bleed, Crack, Cyborgs, M/M, Medical Trauma, Multi, Naughtiness, Need Brain Bleach, Title Challenge, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Aliens</b> made them do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex on the Brain

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written 9/06/2006 for [](http://60-minute-fics.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://60-minute-fics.livejournal.com/)**60_minute_fics** fandom frenzy prompt, which was a contest to referemce as many other fandoms in a fic as one could. I have 27 fandoms, taken mostly from the list at Ship_Manifesto. Needless to say, this is utter crack, and possibly utter crap as well. Eventually, I may take the time to make it all clickable.

It might have been the worst day Rodney'd had in years, certainly in months. When Rodney raised just the _tiniest_ comment, barely a complaint, John had called his "rant, Rodney" a **"'Lemony Snicket'. A Series of Unfortunate Events** , defintely, but not the worst thing ever, geeze Rodney." 'Lemony Snicket' certainly sounded like an insult meant just for him, what with the lemon, but Rodney knew the situation was more fraught than John realized. That blonde alien floozy had _done_ something to John.

John Sheppard was now **the biggest loser** man-whore in the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney thought, as he watched John flirting with the pretty blonde who welcomed them to XK35J5. John wouldn't _call_ it flirting, but Rodney knew it when he saw it. John might call her a **person of interest** ing talents, but there was no way he would get a real chance with **her**

Usually, he knew not to take it too personally. John flirted with everyone: **bad girls** more suited to the fire and **brimstone** that made **hellsing** , and nice ones who might well have come from the **Angel Sanctuary**.

But this was different. Before, it had been all talk, maybe a few touches, but Rodney knew it wouldn't go anywhere. John was his now. He'd put away his little **black books** , **reign** ed in his " **boy meets world** , boy bangs world" behavior.

At first, Rodney thought it was a **(cold) case** of **arrested development**. Or possibly even something hormonal. John was suddenly all over every attractive, marginally sentient being on Atlantis or off. They didn't have to be human. **Cyborg 09** , one of Kavanaugh's pet projects almost shorted out when Colonel Sheppard decided to play **hornblower** on its **fake** genitalia. John was completely out of control, looking for sex partners **from dusk til dawn**. Not everyone was unhappy with his behavior. **Jeremiah** , one of the kitchen staff, had been sending him **fruits baskets** every week. They'd had mostly citrus in them, which Rodney took as all out war against him. Normally he knew John wouldn't have been interested. Now, though, he caught John wiping something suspiciously orange and sticky off his lips.

"All right, **marmelade boy** , enough is enough." He grabbed John and made him see Carson Beckett, the **doctor who** was on duty, so he could conduct a **medical investigation** . As it turned out, Carson was theorizing about the effects of the ancient gene on **alien** sex practices, and was thrilled to have John's input. Dr Beckett was working in tandem with Dr Kate Heightmeyer, who was covering the psychological aspects of the study.

"I still think this is ridiculous," John complained. "I haven't had nearly as much sex as you think I have, Rodney." But he complied with Carson's request, and allowed him to take a blood sample.

Unfortunately, Teyla walked into the room, wearing her shortest, tightest, leather outfit, and glowing from a bout of stickfighting. John whipped around, causing the needle to pull out of his arm. It was **true. Blood** sprayed onto Carson's **scrubs**.

"Ouch, damn it. Sorry, doctor."

"That's all right. A little **bleach** will get that right out."

"Put your finger over this gauze, here," Dr Beckett told him, taking the now full vial and **clamp** ing it down. He brought a bandage back to cover the wound.

"Is he going to be all right?" Rodney asked.

"Well, he's not signing his **death note** , if that's what you're asking. But since we don't yet know what's causing his behavior... I think our best option is keeping him secluded until it blows over."

"Rodney can watch me, can't you?" John gave a manic grin, eyes darting up and down Rodney's body like a **firefly**.

"What is this, **the baby-sitter's club**?" Rodney put in a token protest. It wouldn't do to let on that he was fine with having a highly aroused Sheppard locked in with him.

"Now, Rodney. We're all a **band of brothers** , and we all have to help each other. You wouldn't be on **The A Team** if we thought you were going to be selfish when Colonel Sheppard needs you so badly."

"A for **Atlantis?"**

"Of course."

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with your metaphors, lessons wouldn't even help" Rodney groused.

He did as Carson asked, keeping an eye -- and various other parts -- on John. Tiring him out did the trick, and by morning the **resident evil** was gone, and John was back to normal.

**Later** , Dr Heightmeyer asked him to see her, and noted his feelings from the first whacked out emotion to his **final fantasy**. Rodney was just glad it was all over.

He was never going to let John touch alien blondes again.  



End file.
